


Drunkenly Processing Trauma (Not a Good Plan)

by whelphereweare



Category: Marvel
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drunkenness, Identity Reveal, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, POV First Person, POV Peter Parker, Platonic Relationships, Secret Identity, lemme know if this needs more tags, not written while drunk tho so there's that, or - Freeform, posted while drunk, probably, romantic relationships, times two, your choice really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 03:36:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20717441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whelphereweare/pseuds/whelphereweare
Summary: After messing up on patrol, Peter decides he shouldn't be Spider-man anymore. Wade (a.k.a. Deadpool) finds him and helps him out.





	Drunkenly Processing Trauma (Not a Good Plan)

**Peter's (First Person) POV**

Looking at the street lamps in the city while drunk was kind of like looking at the stars. 

I figure this out as I wander around, probably swaying too much, based off the nasty looks from the few people around. I try to throw in a spin or two when I can. 

It makes the lights look like shooting stars, then. 

“Hey, twinkle toes! Put your hands up and give me your wallet!” 

I stop my latest spin short with a slight stumble to find a man with a wicked looking knife pointed at me. I blink at it a little slowly to focus on it. Nothing I haven’t seen before. Focusing back on the man, I figure out that, no, it’s not a man, not really. It’s just some guy around my age. My spidey senses itch mildly under my skin but they either don’t find this guy to be much of a threat or they’re sluggish from all the alcohol too. 

_ I should be taking notes, this could be an interesting experiment _, I think to myself as the guy shouts something else that I mostly miss. Trying to think over the noises he made and turn them in to words, I tilt my head to the side with eyes trained on the knife. 

Never take your eyes off the threat blah, blah, blah. 

My senses flair just a moment before he lunges giving me time to half-dodge to the side. I kick out on sloppy instinct without enough of a mind on how hard. The guy goes flying into the brick wall behind him and hits with a dull thud. Another dull thud but this time from the ground, and the sharper clatter of the knife is next, followed by a groan from the would be robber. 

I wobble where I stand for a moment as the world dips and skitters around at the too quick movements of what I just did. Once things sort of settle I start forward, toward the guy. And, yes, ok, he was trying to rob me at knife point, fine, but I also, maybe, shouldn’t’ve kicked him quite that hard, so, really, I should go check on him. 

Or at least I try to. 

One step on the foot I kicked him with and my leg seizes up with sluggish pain and decidedly crumples under my weight. I guess the ground is fine, too. 

“What the fuck happened here?” 

_ Why does that voice sound so familiar? _ It was definitely male but also quite loud and bordering obnoxious. I’m staring up at the street lamps and tall buildings as I hear the man walk over to the guy I kicked. There’s some general shuffling that I ignore in favor of debating the voice. It’s not a villain because my spider senses aren’t throwing a fit. It’s not Ned or MJ because they don’t live anywhere near here anymore since college. Gwen and Aunt May are dead so it’s probably not them. 

My eyes start to water at that thought. 

That makes the street lamps look more like stars, too. 

Before I can’t dwell too much on any of this, my injured leg is being inspected by the new guy. He’s got my foot lifted so that the gash is closer to his level. He still has to nearly double over to check it out though. He’s muttering to himself but…. 

_ Wait _…. 

I scrunch toward him which catches the guy off guard. He upgrades his grip to vice like and lifts me up and away from his body. 

“Whoa there buddy! Warn a guy, would ya?!” 

It takes a few moments to orient myself but I figure out that if I just bend myself back and up, “What kinda fucked up demon shit - ?!” I’ve pulled myself up to his shoulders and I’m holding myself there as he tries to shake my leg to get me off. Jokes on him, because I’m sticking to him (mostly) on purpose and he really can shake something like that off. Between the shaking, flailing, and inebriation, it takes a minute to focus enough to get his face into view.

Or rather his mask. 

“Pooooool!” I screech, happily as I wrap my arms around his neck and nuzzle into his cheek. 

“Oh my fucking god your like the cutest little bendy demon I’ve ever _ seen _! Still kinda creepy what with the no spine thing but like kinda really cute, too.” 

I giggle at that because of _ all _ the things Deadpool has described me as, a demon is _ actually _ new. The giggling distracts me from sticking so I slide off and start swinging gently while I hold my stomach and Deadpool holds my leg up. 

“You know, you reek of booze, right?” 

“Pro’ab’y.” I reply, stumbling through the word. 

A deep sigh sigh from Deadpool, then I’m being swung up and I land bridal style in his arms on yelp. I sloppily wrap arms around his neck and look over at the robber whose groaning on the ground now. 

“Oh, good. Not dead.” I mumble and Deadpool’s mask squints down at me. I grin up with him and move up to nuzzle at his face again. He sputters a bit and half drops me before he gets himself together again. _ God he’s cute when he’s flustered _, I think as I grin like an idiot probably. 

“Ok, Bambi. I’m gonna need you to cut that out. You are, like, _ the _ second hottest person I have ever seen but I am _ really _ trying to win Spidey over so I can’t be messing around with anyone else, ok, sweetcheeks?” 

I feel my eyebrows scrunch together and my head tilt to the side with the rest of the world but before I can tell him _ I am _ , well, _ was _Spidey, he’s already onto the next topic. 

“So, Bambi, where’s your place? We need to get you somewhere safer while you’re drunk off your ass.”

‘Your place’ echoes around my head uncomfortably and I immediately make some sort of noise of discomfort I only half register escaping from me. “You ok in there? Please don’t throw up on me. I mean, like, I can take it. That’s not really the issue. You _ do not _ wanna know what I look like under the suit! But, like, I’m trying to find Spidey ‘cuz I just got back to town and vomit smell would just not be a really great impression. Ya feel, Bambi?” 

I huff in annoyance and while wiggling around to get to the ground I accidentally respond, “_ Spidey _’s not Spidey a’ymore.” He seems to parse the slurred, muttered words just fine because he freezes up, standing in the middle of the sidewalk. His grip falters and I pry myself free. 

_ Fine, he doesn’t wanna be friends anymore just cuz Spidey’s gone. I thought maybe he would but I guess not. It’ll be fine. Nothing different. Everyone leaves. You know _ that _ , at least, by now _. 

“What did you just say?” Deadpool asks. Half his tone is stunned, the other half, incredulous. 

I groan at the sky and roll my head on my shoulders. Just rolling my eyes simply isn’t enough.

“Greaaaat! Not only are you _ leavin’ me _ but I’vf picked up _ ha-bits _ from you! Fuckn’ peaches ‘n cream, tha ’s. Fuck, that’s another one!” I had managed to work my socks and shoes off during my tirade and tie them so they hung around my neck. “Well go on then. I’ll be fine! I’ll get myself home ...eventually.” 

I turn to the wall and start to hobble up it while muttering about home and maybe something to do with biochemistry. 

Look, I’m drunk! I’m not really keeping track here! 

“W-wait! Where are you going?!” Deadpool whisper screeches from a couple stories down. 

I twist myself around as I feel my face scrunch in and I reply, “I told you where I’m goin’, though?”

Deadpool’s mask twitches and his head turns back and forth a little and I know he’s hearing the people in his head again. I don’t mind, it’s kinda cute when he does this. I feel the small smile twitch onto my face and only jump a tiny bit when he suddenly replies, “No?! You didn’t?!” 

I roll my head to the side, flopping my hair into my face, and, “Huh.” 

Deadpool seems to pause for a moment before his shoulders relax a little and he takes a hesitant step forward. “You ok in there, baby boy?” 

I can’t stop the grin that splits my face or the giggle that wiggles its way out my throat. I feel my shoulders relax too but that, unfortunately, also relaxes my hold on the building. 

“_ Dude _!” Deadpool screeches at me just before I manage to stick my foot to the bottom of a ledge. 

I’m still giggling while I swing back and forth against the building. 

“That was fun!” I stutter out between snickers and arch around to find Deadpool grabbing at his chest looking considerably less relaxed than earlier. 

“Ok, look, baby boy, sweet cheeks, love of my life, _dude_! _Please_! For the love of tacos would you come down here _and_ _let me carry you_?!” 

I sigh and roll my eyes but the fake annoyance is even more obviously fake because I’m still chuckling and smiling like an idiot. With some mild acrobatics and some half coordinated movements, I get back down to Wade’s level. 

On a whim, I decide to launch myself at his chest and into his arms. 

With an “Oof!” and a spin to redirect the moment he catches me and holds me close. 

“Ok we need to find you somewhere to be while your drunk so you don’t reveal your shtick to the _ entire fucking world _ . Also we need to get you food. And water. Like _ yesterday _.” 

I snort and curl into his chest a little as he continues to fuss over details and begins talking to the voices out loud. His constant stream of words is incredibly comforting and as he carries me bridal style to who knows where, I fall asleep. The last thing I remember is shoving my face into his chest and taking in the smell of leather and gunpowder and half imagine _ thank fuck, I’m home _.

___________________________________

I wake up to a spinning ceiling and clanking somewhere nearby but not in view. The ceiling isn’t familiar but I can’t say that my own apartment’s ceiling would be all that familiar to me so that’s not really useful.

The floor might be though. 

I spend a lot of time flopped on the floor. 

Anyway, I’m on something squishy and warm, it's not the floor, so it’s still useless. 

A quick mental poke of my body supplies that the gash from earlier has probably been bandaged based of the pressure rounding my calf. It’s probably already healing, unless the drinking makes that stupid slow, too.

The clanking has turned into light footsteps at some point. Steps that should probably be more worrying than my drunken everything was letting on. With a deep sigh I roll over and, after a short fall, hit the ground with a yelp. There’s a pause in the steps then they seem to get louder. It takes me too long to realize that _ that _ actually means that they’re getting _ closer _ . _ How the _ fuck _ am I going to fight while the room is spinning?! _ I think to myself frantically as I gather my limbs under me and shove myself to my feet. I knock into something wooden sounding on the way up. I think I also knock the couch but I can’t say much of that registers after I get a look at the guy standing in front of me. 

He’s wearing super loose sweatpants and t-shirt. The shirt has a rainbow unicorn on the front that catches my inebriated attention almost entire except that his face is waaaay more interesting than his shirt. Stunning crystal blue eyes sit in mottled and scarred skin that’s stretched along a jawline and cheekbones that could cut glass with ease. 

And he just looks sort of ... familiar? 

He’s talking but I’m not really listening as he is a far more interesting puzzle to solve. I walk up to him as the world tilts around and either I fall into him or he catches me but his arms are suddenly around me and the worry on his face registers in my brain. I mutter out a half focused “Sorry…” and keep staring. 

Up close now, I can get my hands involved and I put a hand on either side of his jaw to tilt his face to the side. _ Not…. quite right _ , I think as I tilt him a little further. I drag my thumb up his cheek and it pulls his lips up into a sort of half smile that turns real as he chuckles. Presumably at me, but that’s completely not the point. No, no, no, The Point is that this man has straight white teeth and the best smile I’ve _ ever _ seen. He turns his head as my hands drop to his shoulders and my brain drags itself into a conclusion on his identity. 

“Come on, baby boy. Is my face just that fugly or are you just that into it, huh?” 

He’s grinning with his perfect teeth and his voice is steady and warm but his eyes betray his nerves, if only slightly. 

Then its clicks and, “DP?” 

The nerves fade from his eyes and his grin loses it’s sharpened edges in favor of actual, genuine happiness. 

“Yeah, the one and only. Did I forget to introduce myself, without the mask?” He sets me steady (ish) on my feet again, grabs my hand, and executes the most outlandish bow over it that he can manage. “Wade Winston Wilson, a.k.a Deadpool, sarcastic, fugly, bastard at your service.” I snort at that and shove at his head. He laughs as I spin on my heel and nearly fall over. 

Really, it’s fine, so long as he doesn’t see my face split into such a goofy, adoring smile. 

He throws an arm around my shoulders and pulls me to him (getting my weight off my bad leg, the sneak) as he guides me to the kitchen. “Since your up let’s get some food in you, baby boy.” As he gets me to the kitchen my mind seems to register that fact that I am not wearing my mask, I haven’t introduced myself, and Dea- Wade hasn’t really referred to me as Spider-Man or Peter since he found me. 

As he picks me up and sits me on a counter top I say, “Hey, you know that I'm ... or I wa-” 

“That you_ are _ Spidey? Yeah, took me a minute, but between the yelling at me like you knew me and the sticking to things that aren’t sticky, I figured it out. Call me clever. A genius, if you will.” 

Between the swirly hand movements and the walking back and forth around his kitchen, I’ve gotten dizzy but not distracted. As soon as he’s within range I hook him with a foot and pull him to me. He chuckles lightly but comes with the gentle pull. After placing the pan he was holding down on the counter, he turns to me with the suggestion of a raised, non-existent eyebrow on his face. 

“‘M not _ Spidey _ an’more! I’m jus…. Peter.” I tell him as I find tears gathering in my eyes. I offer a shaky smile as I grab one of his hands to squeeze it and add, “My name’s Peter.” 

Wade looks confused and more than a little concerned but he smiles softly, squeezing my hand back, and saying, “Nice to meet you Peter.” 

I look down in the hopes that it might hide the blush that’s most likely already there and just becoming a darker red as we speak. Between seeing Wade, being drunk, and having him this close with all his attention on me, it just makes me feel like I’m on fire. Or my face at the very least. 

“Really?” I ask, staring down at my feet. 

Wade places a finger under my chin and lifts until I’m looking him in the eye, “It will always be my pleasure, Bambi.” His gin is teasing and light but shifts to something a little more serious as he asks, “But what’s all this, ‘there’s no Spider-man anymore’, huh? Did I end up in another dimension again?” A loud gasp then, “Did _ we _ end up in another dimension?! Ha! This is gonna be so cool! We can run around and fuck with our alternate reality selves and do shit like - !” 

“No! Nothing like that!” I reply, cutting him off with chuckles surfacing between the words. 

But then the question comes back and _ But what’s all this, ‘there’s no Spider-man anymore’, huh? _

And suddenly I’m back there. 

It was supposed to be a normal patrol. 

It was just like every other night of patrol. The city had been relatively quiet that night and I had honestly debated just turning in early because Deadpool was off on some mission somewhere and patrolling had just become so much more boring alone. 

Honestly, just thinking the night was boring was probably tempting fate. 

My spidey senses had gone off with a vengeance and before I really knew it I was swinging into the direction of a high-pitched scream. When I found the source I’d dropped into the alley way to find a woman cradling a small boy to her chest and crying while a larger person, presumably male, was running down the alley. 

I got a couple steps down the alley towards the assumed assailant when the woman screamed, “Help me! Please!” Never one to refuse anyone in distress, I spent a moment or two debating if I should chase the assailant but ultimately turned around to help the woman, instead. 

“Ok, everything is going to be fine. Are you hurt? Is he ok?” I’d said as I’d jog up to her, trying to sound as calm and nonthreatening as possible. Then the child was being shoved into my chest and into my arms. 

His head had lolled back and there was blood all over his shirt and the woman was crying and sobbing out, “Please! You have to get him to a hospital! You have to help him!” 

And for some reason I knew something was wrong. 

Maybe it was that I just thought my spidey senses were reacting to the crime that had occurred. Maybe it was because the woman was so freaked out and demanding that I take the kid _ right now _. Maybe it was the smell of blood and the dark stain on the front of the kid’s shirt. 

But I ignored my gut feeling that all of this was wrong, picked up the kid, and started running for the hospital since it was only a block or two away. 

That really should’ve been my biggest clue. Nothing in this city was ever that damn convenient. 

“Hey, could somebody help me please?!” I’d shouted, half words, half panic. I’d gone in through probably the wrong doors but there were medical people there and the kid was _ bleeding _ and -

There’s a gentle tapping on my forehead. 

“You seeing me yet, Bambi?” 

And suddenly there is a very blurry Wade in front of my eyes instead of the memory. 

I blink and the tears fall but my vision clears, if only by a little. Wade places a hand on my cheek and wipes the tears away with his thumb as he says, “Look, I did see the news at one point while I was gone and I looked it up when the job was done and I was heading back. I’m sure whatever happened with the -” 

“I brought ‘m to the hospital ‘n he shot three people before I got the gun away from ‘m.” I say quietly but interrupting him all the same. Wade’s other hand comes up to cradle my face completely and wipe the tears on both sides. 

“Well, what I heard is that you saved a mother and her son from a mugging, found that the son was bleeding, and brought him to the nearest hospital as quickly as you could.” 

“I should’ve checked him for weapons.” 

“Why would you have checked victims for weapons?” 

“I had a feelin! A spidey sense? Whatever. I shoulda known! ‘M th-” 

Wade pulls me into a hug, hands gently coming around and putting my face in his shoulder to cut me off. 

“You _ can’t _ blame yourself like that, baby boy. You’re gonna drive yourself nuts if you do and trust me,” he says as he presses half his dumb grin into the top of my head, “nuts isn’t even _ half _ as fun as I make it look.” 

I snort out a laugh into his shoulder and slowly wind my arms and legs around him while I ignore the mild burn in my leg from the gash. I bury my head a little further into him. I’m not sure how long we stay like that, breathing each other in and soaking in each other’s warmth. 

“As absolutely lovely as this is, Webs, I need to feed you before I actually lose my mind. Got any preferences? Or anything you can’t stomach while you’re drunk?” 

He looks at me questioningly, still wrapped in my limbs and not moving until he gets his answer. In part, it is because he has asked me questions and is actually expecting answer. But there’s that unspoken question in the nickname that he’s really looking for the indirect answer of. 

Wade is many things, but unobservant isn’t one of them. 

I’m staring and too quiet, I know, but I really can’t help it. But then after a moment something loosens a little in my throat and around my heart and maybe, _ maybe - _

“Pancakes?” I answer too soft and too meek but Wade still grins like I just gave him a puppy. 

  
Wet chuckles break there way out from ribs as he nuzzles my cheek and murmurs,

“Anything for you, _ Peter _.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, let me know what I did wrong in the comments. Comment or Kudos if you liked it. Really appreciate if you made it this far. Regardless, thank you so much :)


End file.
